Heath locked the front door behind them and said, “This is the first Christmas I haven’t been alone in a longtime.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, I was usually at parties, which on holidays is often worse than being alone.” He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her along toward the bedroom.
“I ate too much,” Ann said as they crossed the threshold. “I can hardly walk.”
“You ate like a normal human being, and if you can do it once you can do it again. I’ll make sure you do.” He stood behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it slip to the floor. He lifted her hair off her neck and kissed her nape lingeringly, then unhooked her bra and dropped that on top of the dress. Ann turned in his arms and he picked her up, carrying her toward the bed.
Ann fell back on the pillows, her arms above her head. He dropped onto the bed with her, covering her slight body with his muscular one as he pulled off her briefs.
Ann wound herself around him, sighing. “I dreamed of this so many times, spent years wondering what it would be like, thinking about what I had lost forever. And now I’ve found it again.”
Heath stood to remove his clothes, and Ann watched as the body she had desired since her adolescence was revealed, sculpted like an artist’s clay figure, totally male. She reached out eagerly and he rejoined her, pulling her to him and running his hands down the satiny curve of her spine. Her fingers sank into his shoulder blades as he turned and set her back on the bed, kissing her everywhere he could reach as her eyes closed luxuriously. Then he positioned her body, encircling her waist with his arm and easing her under him.
“I love you,” he said as he entered her.
“I love you, too,” Ann whispered.
And that was all they needed to say.
* * * *
On Christmas night, Heath and Ann were sitting in the living room, relaxing in front of a fire that was more ceremonial than necessary, when the doorbell rang. Heath, who was wearing the cashmere sweater Ann gave him for Christmas, looked at Ann inquiringly.
“Are you expecting anybody?” Ann asked.
Heath shrugged.
Ann slipped out of Heath’s embrace, put down her glass of eggnog and went to answer the door. Her brother Tim was standing on the other side of it, a large wrapped box under one arm.
“Timmy!” Ann shrieked, and threw her arms around him, causing him to rock back and drop the overnight bag he was carrying in his free hand.
“Merry Christmas,” Tim said, and hugged her.
Heath hovered in the background, all smiles.
“What are you doing here?” Ann asked, releasing him and leading him into the house. “I thought you were going to stay up in Massachusetts.”
“Heath got me a seat on a plane today. After my latest trouble, he thought it would be best for me to come here and let you see for yourself that I was all right.” Tim stepped around his sister and reached his hand out to Heath, who shook it.
“Thanks, man,” Tim said.
“De nada,” Heath replied.
“No. I mean, really, thanks for everything. I know that I’ve said it a hundred times on the phone but you certainly deserve to hear it once again.”
Ann stood looking from one man to the other, her eyes huge and sparkling.
“Come on, Tim, it’s a holiday. Let’s go inside and talk about something positive before your sister gets all weepy. Do you want a drink?” Heath said.
Tim shook his head ruefully. “Nah, booze tends to make me think I can win at the crap tables again.”
“Well, there are no crap tables here. How about some eggnog? Nothing in it but lots of calories. We’ve been trying to fatten your sister up.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Eggnog is fine.”
They went back to the living room and indulged in meaningless chitchat for about fifteen minutes before Heath rose and said, “I’ve still got a few presents to wrap and I’m sure you two would like to be alone for a while.”
Ann shot him a grateful glance and then turned back to her brother, who was watching her closely.
“He doesn’t have any presents to wrap, does he?” Tim said knowingly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I. You look very happy,” he said.
“I am.”
“That’s some great guy you’ve got there.”
“I know.”
“I was so humiliated about all of this that I didn’t even want to talk to him on the phone that first time. But he never acted judgmental about my problems, he just addressed what had to be done. Is he always like that?”
“Not always,” Ann said dryly.
Tim scratched the back of his neck, looking so much like their father for a moment that her heart skipped a beat. Tim had Henry Talbot’s patrician features and rangy build and just about all of his gestures, too.
“Heath must really be crazy about you,” Tim said.
Ann smiled.
“I mean, I know he didn’t jump into this feet-first and head up the rescue team just for me.”
Ann nodded.
“Ironic, isn’t it? Heath is bailing out the company, and the son, of the man who detested him. Somewhere in the wings the fates are laughing.”
“None of it seems very funny to me,” Ann replied, sighing. “How are you doing, anyway?”
Tim smiled ruefully. “One day at a time, as they say. I was doing pretty well, actually, until that bench warrant business. The thought of going back to jail really had me spooked.”
“I’m sorry about that, Tim. There was some legal mixup, it never should have happened—”
Tim held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t apologize to me, Annie. Everything bad that has happened in my life is my fault. That’s one of the things you learn in recovery—to take responsibility for your own actions. Sure, our dear daddy was a bastard and he let me know every minute of my life that I was a bitter disappointment to him. But he’s dead now, I’m alive, and I’ve got to clean up my mess. With the help of your husband, of course. And you.”
Ann leaned forward to pour him a glass of eggnog from the cut glass decanter on the table. “Timmy, why did you do it?” Ann said, handing her brother the drink. “I’ve never asked you but I’ve always wondered.”
“The gambling?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I guess you’ve got a right to know if anyone does. The answer is, I don’t fully understand it myself, not yet, anyway. It has something to do with the power I felt when I won, the power over my life that was so lacking when Dad was alive. I got hooked on that when I was just a kid.”
Ann nodded.
“The problem is you don’t always win, but you keep going back to get that kick, convinced that sooner or later it will happen again,” Tim went on. “And in the meantime, you’re losing. And I lost big. But part of the illness is, you’re always convinced that you will make that big score that will wipe out the loans and the debts and let you start over with a clean slate. And there’s plenty of scumbags around to feed that illusion while they’re plying you with perks and taking your money. It sucks you in, believe me.”
“You should have talked to me about it, Tim. You should have talked to somebody.”
He closed his eyes. “I know that now.” He opened them. “But when you’re in that whirlpool you really think you can handle it, that the next big win will be your last.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s an addiction, Annie. Why does a heroin addict keep sticking needles in his arms when his veins are collapsing and his skin is a mass of scabs and his last meal was a can of orange soda? Why does an alcoholic keep drinking when he’s bloated from liver failure and yellow with jaundice and can’t remember what he’s done for hours and days at time? It isn’t logical behavior, it’s an illness.”
Ann put her hand over his. “I’m sorry I asked you about it,” she said quietly. “Anyway that isn’t the point now, the point is to get you well.”
He bit his lip, not looking at her. “I’ll pay you back for what you’ve done for me, both of you. If I have to work at it for the rest of my life I promise I’ll pay you back.”